"By St. Patrick's piper that played the last snake out of Ireland!"
sighed Frenchy, ecstatically, "we never was of such importance since we
was christened--hey, fellows?"

"Oi, oi!" murmured Ikey, wagging his head, "my papa don't even suggest
I should take out the orders to the customers no more. He does it himself,
or he hires a feller to do it for him.

"Mind, now! Last night he closed the shop an hour early so's to sit down
with my mama and me and Aunt Eitel in the back room, after the kids was
all in bed, and made me tell about all we'd done and seen. I tell you
it's great!"

"And before we began our hitch," Al Torrance chuckled, as he expertly
rounded a corner, "we were scarcely worth speaking to in Seacove. Now
folks want to stop us on the street and tell us how much they think of
us."

"Gee!" exploded Frenchy, "I could eat candy and ice cream all day long
if I'd let the kids spend money on me."

"We're sure some pumpkins," drawled Whistler Morgan, dryly, sitting
around in the front seat so he could talk with those in the rear.
"I say, Hans!"

"Yep?" was Seven Knott's reply.

"Do you really think we can get some of those fellows at Elmvale to go
to the recruiting office and enlist?"